


If You Want to Sing, Just Duet!

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [42]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Karaoke, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, kustard - Freeform, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Edge had no idea how he'd ended up here, but he knew one thing. He wasn't about to sing.





	If You Want to Sing, Just Duet!

* * *

Edge wasn’t sure how, but he was positive that the blame for all of this could be laid directly at Red’s door.

To begin with, the events that had led them all to being at a karaoke bar were a little fuzzy. What he was sure about was that he and Stretch were supposed to be meeting the entirety of their little skeleton family for dinner. Only the restaurant that had been chosen didn’t seem to have their reservation, and so they’d tried another. And another. Until somehow in the confusion of babble between Papyrus and Blue, coupled with the snark of Sans, Red, and Stretch, they’d been downgraded to the point of chicken wings and beer at a Monster-friendly pub, on what happened to be karaoke night. 

The benefit, if there was one, was that the bar was invitingly full, not to the point of being crowded, and there were other Monsters scattered around, laughing and conversing with their friends.

The downside was that they were having dinner at a damn bar. 

A fresh basket of fries was shoved in front of Edge and he pushed it away with a grimace of distaste. The amount of grease in this place seemed to saturate the entire building, even the chairs seemed to have a film of fatty oil. He could only watch with a sort of resigned disgust as Red and Sans snatched up the fries that he had refused, silently arguing with their elbows about how much condiments they required. Even Blue had given in to his hunger, delicately nibbling on a chicken wing that Stretch had liberally coated in some kind of sauce. He was also consuming them with messy vigor that was going to land him in the shower before he was allowed in their bed tonight. 

It was, in a word, disgusting, and ending up here had Red’s filthy hands all over it. 

Papyrus, at least, wore a matching expression of disgust. A couple of beers had softened it somewhat and while he refused the food, he hadn’t turned away a glass yet. 

The collection of empty glasses on the table was a stark indication that the others hadn’t either. Edge only sipped his water, keeping a jaundiced eye light on his bedraggled family. None of them were trustworthy after a few drinks, not even Blue and Papyrus. To be fair, Sans and Red weren’t trustworthy _before_ any drinks and Stretch…Edge loved him, he did, but once he was mixed up with the trouble twins, every bit of hard-won common sense that Edge had imparted into him was buried beneath terrible humor. 

For example, Red’s suggestion that they play karaoke roulette. That right there was why his brother was not trustworthy and Edge put another mental mark in the column that indicated he’d orchestrated the entire series of events that had landed them in this bar. It would certainly explain how Edge had ended up here with no sense of how he’d been persuaded to walk through the door. 

Some mysteries were beyond the common Monster to comprehend. One of them being his brother. 

“it’s like this, karaoke roulette,” Red explained, with that sharp, devious sparkle in his eye lights that Edge knew all too well, “s’the same as regular karaoke, only someone else picks the song for you and you don’t know who. now, you don’t have to sing it, but if you don’t…”

Edge wasn’t even surprised by the bottle of cheap tequila that had somehow found its way into his brother’s hand. Nothing could break through his resignation at this point; this was going to end terribly, that was a given. It was only a question of when and how bad the fallout would be. 

“good choice,” Stretch grimaced, “at least you don’t have to worry about anyone deliberately turning down a song to get a free drink. okay, i’m in.”

“why not,” Sans agreed lazily, picking a ketchup-laden fry from his basket. “sounds like it could be interestin’”

“I hope that wasn’t a pun, Sans,” Papyrus seemed to be deciding whether or not he should be scolding. He erred on the side of generosity, “And it does seem like it would be fun, let’s play!”

“Could I sing with someone…” Blue asked uncertainly, inciting a rousing squabble between Stretch and Red about rules. 

Edge didn’t even bother to decline, the idea of him playing was ludicrous. He didn't even know any of this damn music and he wasn’t about to drink tonight, ergo, he was not playing. 

In the end, it was decided if there were a duet then if a song was declined, a double shot was required. Wonderful, that way trouble could find them all the quicker. 

It didn’t take long for Edge to discover his worries had been misplaced. To begin with, the shots of tequila his brother had poured out at the start of the game were still sitting untouched. None of them were much at turning down a dare, even the more sensible among them. 

There was also the simple fact that neither Blue nor Papyrus could sing, and churning in a little alcohol into their systems didn’t improve things. Their rendition of ‘Love Shack’ was going to haunt his nightmares, of that Edge was certain. 

At least the bar patrons enjoyed the show, if their cheers were anything to go by. 

Sans and Red were actually quite good, and so was Stretch, or at least they would be if it weren’t for the songs. By tears of the angel, where did Humans come up with this music? Crooning about being a gigolo or how they would never give someone up. His own brother sang a horrifying song about chocolate salty balls and Edge was familiar enough with Human anatomy to understand it was supposed to be humorous. Certainly, the rest of the bar seemed to think so. 

Edge was at the point of considering driving cocktail toothpicks into his auditory canals. Any amount of pain could not compare to enduring this. 

A cheerful waitress dropped off a fresh tray of drinks right as Sans took the stage again, utterly monotone and glaring at the table the entire time as he droned through…well. Edge wasn’t sure how the song was originally sung, but he didn’t think this version was going to be bringing sexy back to anywhere. 

Stretch gave him a nudge to catch his attention, not that Edge needed any encouragement. His eye lights flicking discreetly to Red, a brow bone raised. 

Ah, well, there was a point of interest; whatever careless impression his brother was trying to give as he watched the stage wasn’t fooling anyone who knew what to look for. How the hell those two thought they were hiding anything, Edge had no idea, or more to the point, _why_. If Sans and Red wanted a sexual relationship, it wasn’t any of his business and Edge was hardly the little brother that Red had to conceal his affairs from any longer. Old habits died hard, perhaps? Whatever his reasons, Edge was not about to be the one to bring it up. If Red didn’t want to discuss it, he could be allowed his perception of secrecy. 

The song came to an end and Sans slouched back to the table, snagging up his glass and downing half his beer in one gulp. “think it’s your turn, stretchy-boy, wanna bet on whether you can beat that?”

Stretch scoffed around a mouthful of greasy fries. “whatever, _small fry_ , i can take whatever comes up.” 

At that moment, the DJ came over the microphone. “All right, everyone, looks like we have Stretch up again!” A small cheer rose up from the crowd and Stretch stood, bowing dramatically. “Singing some Joan Jett for us!”

A growling guitar riff poured out of the speakers and Stretch groaned. “which one of you assholes picked this song?” He didn’t wait for an answer, picking up one of the shots of tequila and tossing it back. 

“Aw, are you not going to sing, Pappy?” Blue sounded disappointed.

“i’m singing,” Stretch reassured him. He scrubbed his knuckles over his brother’s skull even as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in just a tank top. “but this song takes some fortification.”

Like most of the songs they’d been singing, Edge didn’t know this one, and he watched mutely as Stretch took the stage and grabbed the microphone. It didn’t seem particularly adventurous, not more than any other rock song, and Stretch sang it easily, unremarkably.

Until it got to the chorus. 

Because of course Stretch would throw himself into the dare of it. That whiskey-sweet voice of his crooning into the microphone, asking the crowd if they wanted to touch him _there_. Any question of where he meant was answered by the sway of his hips, his thumb lazily drawing up the hem of his tank top and showing a hint of the pale smoothness of his iliac crest. 

"Gee," Papyrus said, and Blue's face was bright with magic even as he giggled behind his hand. Red and Sans were only watching with lazy amusement, identically unfazed as Edge turned the heat of his glare to them.

"Which one of you two assholes picked that song?" Edge gritted out. Twin expression of pure innocence were reflected back at him, lies made physical. 

“dunno, bro,” Red said lazily, “what’s the problem, anyway? he sounds good.”

He did, and he looked as delectable as he sounded. There was a certain coltish grace to his movements, a combination of alcohol and natural rhythm, and the temptation to yank him off the stage was burning in Edge. Not so much out of jealousy, not at all, his trust in Stretch was absolute. 

But watching the sway of his hips made Edge want to set his own hands there, made him want to pull Stretch back to move against him rather than the air. Even without his sweatshirt it must have been warm beneath the lights; sweat was starting to gleam on his bared bones, trickling in pale rivulets down his skull in ways that were familiar to Edge for entirely different reasons.

That line of thinking was not at all helpful and Edge drained half his glass of water in one gulp. It took more effort to ignore the cruel, knowing grin on his brother’s face and Edge was a paper-thin distance from snapping at him that he should keep his attention on Sans if he wanted a chance at getting laid tonight, when the song ended. 

Wild, beery cheering erupted from the crowd and Stretch sketched a sloppy bow, breathing heavily as he made his way back to the table. 

“how was that, sansy?” Stretch panted, “think i won that round.”

For all that his teeth were as even as Stretch’s, Sans’s grin held the same level of asshole that Red usually aspired to. “dunno about that, why not ask your hubby? he seemed real interested.”

“oh, are you the judge now?” Stretch’s smirk was knowing, because for fuck’s sake, of course it was, the three of them were like monkeys in a barrel, shaken up and released to see what chaos they could bring.

“We’re leaving,” Edge announced tightly, snatching up Stretch’s sweatshirt and stuffing it into his arms. His grin only widened, and he waggled his fingers in a lazy goodbye to the others as Edge pulled him along, extending it to the entire crowd as they cheered and catcalled them out the door.

The chilly air outside had something of a dampening affect and Edge breathed in gulps of it even as he tugged Stretch to their car. 

“didn’t you like the song, babe?” Stretch asked, dropping the register of his voice to something lower, enticingly breathy. “i picked it just for you.”

“You—” Edge bit off whatever words were going to escape, struggling for control. He shouldn’t be surprised, he really shouldn’t, knowing the pretty, perfect little shit that his husband was. His own voice was closer to a growl as he said. “Get in the car.”

“whatever you say,” Stretch said agreeably, settling into the passenger seat. He hadn’t bothered to put his sweatshirt back on, showing far more bone than was decent, and Edge closed his sockets, dragging in one last breath of chilly air before he got in because he’d be damned if they were going to desecrate his car again in a bar parking lot. 

“you comin’, babe?” Stretch called. Through the opened door Edge could see him sprawled in his seat, his knees spread wide and one finger tracing along the pale, smooth line of his exposed collarbone. 

Distantly, Edge wondered if he had any magic left above the waist to allow for thinking. He swallowed thickly and got into the car, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. 

“Stay on your side of the car,” Edge gritted out. It didn’t stop his eye lights from ghosting to the side, watching as Stretch’s fingertips trailed lower, tracing his own ribs through his thin tank top. 

“don’t worry, babe,” Stretch’s voice caught on a groan. “i won’t lay a hand on you.”

It was going to be a long drive home. Edge started the car determinedly, unable to ignore the growing moans next to him, the sound of bone hissing against fabric, the sweet, growing pleasure in Stretch’s voice. He kept his eyes on the road, listening to each soft cry and oh, his love was going to pay for this, and pay dearly. 

He couldn’t help the wild thought that this was entirely Red’s fault, every step of it. 

Maybe he owed his brother a thank you card. 

-finis-

**Author's Note:**

> The songs that were sung, in order:
> 
> Love Shack – as sung by the B52s  
> Just a Gigolo – as sung by David Lee Roth  
> Never Gonna Give You Up – as sung by Rick Astley  
> Chocolate Salty Balls – as sung by Isaac Hayes  
> Sexyback - as sung by Justin Timberlake  
> Do You Wanna Touch Me – as sung by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts


End file.
